Be mine, Valentine
by breathing is over-rated
Summary: John recieves a gift on Valentines day. Who could it be from?
1. Chapter 1

**AN-** Woo! Valentines day... I've decided to add this to the torrent of Valentines fics which are sure to appear today. Sorry everyone.

Enjoy  
>x<p>

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><p><strong>Be mine, Valentine<strong>

John Watson and Sherlock Holmes sat facing each other in the living area of 221b. The telly was on but only one was watching it. Surprisingly, the one watching was actually the detective. John was currently reading the newspaper and trying to block out his flatmates frustrated yells of 'of course she's not his daughter' and 'Murder? Ha! I've seen better murders committed by a two year old.' and the inevitable 'this programme is stupid'. The soldier sighed and placed the paper down to glare at Sherlock. He was about to admonish the childish behaviour when Mrs Hudson bustled into the room, holding something. John stopped whatever he'd been about to say to turn and smile at her instead.

'Mrs Hudson, what can we do for you?' He asked. The elderly woman smiled sweetly.

'Nothing dearie, I just got this through the post for you.' She passed it to the doctor and John looked down at the single red rose with a small tag round it.

'Looks like someone's got an admirer.' She said with a wink. John cast a glance to his flatmate, he wouldn't put it past him to do something like this just to get attention for something. Sherlock seemed as confused as he was so he turned the delicate tag over to read the cursive writing on the other side.

_Dear John,_

_Please be mine._

_Love,_

_Your valentine._

The soldier gulped slightly and carefully placed the rose on the mantel piece. He turned back to Sherlock again.

'Please tell me that was from you ad this was some sort of experiment. You know I hate soppy poems.' He said. The detective looked blankly at him before picking up the rose and reading the tag himself. The smile crept unbidden to his pointed features.

'No, I didn't, but this is priceless.' He replied, barely containing the chuckle. The doctor growled at his flatmate.

'No, this is not priceless. This is creepy.' John corrected. Sherlock shrugged and turned away. The doctor suddenly remembered who he was living with and he called after the detective.

'Ok, jokes up. Now you tell me who sent this right now.' He ordered. Sherlock looked at him innocently.

'But that would spoil the whole Valentines day ritual, wouldn't it?' He replied in a childish voice. John gave him a death glare and put on his coat.

'Where are you going?' The detective asked. John huffed and didn't reply, slamming the door slightly harder than he actually needed to.

Once the doctor had gone, Mrs Hudson walked back into the room.

'So who sent the rose?' She asked in her gossipy tones. Sherlock looked at her with an odd mix of amusement and annoyance.

'I have no idea.' He replied, picking up his phone and dialling a number he had lifted from Johns mobile on one of the countless times he had 'borrowed' it.


	2. Chapter 2

John walked down the chilly street, his mind whirring as he tried to think who could have sent the rose. Of course, he still hadn't cross Sherlock off that list. The cursive writing was right up his street. The doctor walked into the clinic and walked up to the desk. Sarah sat with a mischievous smirk.

'What's so funny?' He asked in annoyance. She smirked even more.

'Sherlock called ahead, said you'd be here in a few minutes.' She answered. John scowled darkly and silently cursed the detective.

'So I guess you know why I'm here.' He muttered. She nodded.

'And no, I can't help you. I've asked round and no one here has sent anyone a rose. You will tell me when you find out who, yeah? Cos I really want to have a chat with the nutter.' She giggled. The soldier left the clinic without another word.

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><p>Back on the cold London streets, John muttered to himself. So it wasn't Sarah. Not that he had really expected it to be since her handwriting was awful. It also wasn't anyone else who worked at the clinic. Again, not that he expected it to be since he didn't really know any of the others that well, but now they all knew that he had a secret admirer. And that would put him down even further on the list of attractiveness. He was never going to get laid. Ever.<p>

In Baker street, Sherlock Holmes chuckled to himself and picked up his phone again. He might not know who had sent John the endearing gift but that didn't mean he didn't know how the man was going to behave and where he was going to go next. With a sly chuckle, he pressed the call button and held the mobile to his ear.

The doctor reached Bart's and quickly made his way inside. The cabbie had been quite quick and so it had only taken him ten minutes. John walked down the corridors until he came across Molly. Who smiled knowingly. The soldier groaned.

'Let me guess. Sherlock told you.' He said bitterly. The woman nodded with a smile.

'And I'm afraid I can't help you either.' She replied. 'It's a bit silly really, this valentines thing. Not that I mind, after all, I got a box of chocolates this morning. Probably from the tutor who comes in twice a week, he's so sweet.' Molly said, still smiling. The doctor nodded and sighed. He was fast running out of ideas.

'Well I guess I'll be off then.' He muttered, leaving without waiting for her to reply.

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><p>Outside, John looked down the street and turned off to go to the park. The only other woman-bar his sister and Clara- that he had any contact with was Mycroft's assistant and there was no way that she was sending him a valentines anything. John was chuckling dryly to himself when an old woman approached him, holding a parcel.<p>

'Young man, might you be Doctor John Watson?' She asked doubtfully. The soldier looked quizzically at her but replied with the affirmative. A worn smile brightened her features and vanquished the nervousness that was there before.

'Ah, good. See, I was told to give this parcel at this time to a Dr John Watson.' She said in relief. John raised an eyebrow but accept the package.

'Can I ask who?' The old woman smiled sweetly.

'Yes. A youngster who lives round my way. Lovely dark haired man.' Then the woman walked off. John nodded and looked down at the parcel before his mind suddenly clicked.

'Wait, man?' Put the woman had long since gone. The doctor held the light-pink box. _Well, Shit._


	3. Chapter 3

After a moment or two of staring at the neatly wrapped package, John finally decided to open the thing. This time it was a box of chocolates, expensive ones at that. And a new note.

_Rose a red,_

_Lily's a white._

_Hell on fire,_

_And poems are shite._

_I realise that you probably can't stand the soppy love poems, being the brave solider you are, but I couldn't help it. Enjoy the chocolates._

_XxX_

John couldn't help chuckling at the letter. He stood up and left to get a cab home. He racked his brains but couldn't think of any dark haired men that he knew of, apart from Sherlock and maybe Mycroft. God, Mycroft, now that was a scary thought.

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><p>Sherlock was waiting for him when he got back to 221b Baker Street, the huge grin clearly showed exactly what he was thinking.<p>

'Don't say a word.' John snapped tiredly as he flopped down onto his chair with the box of chocolates.

'So it's a man, then.' Sherlock stated. 'Hmm, this is getting interesting.' The doctor glared at him. The detective walked over to his flatmate and skilfully pinched the box of chocolates out of his hands, turning it over to see all angles before eventually reading the note and freezing. John felt the chill in the room and was put immediately on edge.

'What?' He asked. Sherlock looked at him.

'I could be wrong.' He said. 'But I think I know who your secret admirer is.' his words were slow and deliberate. The soldier stared at him. Sherlock only used that tone of voice when he was talking about one certain person.

'Oh shit.' John gulped. The detective handed the chocolates back.

'Have you eaten any?' He asked. The doctor shook his head, not quite trusting himself to speak. His flatmate nodded once then turned round, clearly having better things to do with his time. John dragged his hands through his hair.

'What am I going to do?' He called to where Sherlock stood. The man turned round on his heels to face the blond doctor.

'Whatever you wish. People ignore unrequited Valentines day gifts all the time. It's entirely up to you. I'm sure you don't return the feelings, then again, emotions make humans do insane things all the time.' He replied, a quiver of amusement still lingering in his eyes. John narrowed his eyes at the consulting detective. He allowed the man to have his way with pretty much everything but that didn't mean he was going to allow him to insult his intelligence. The soldier's mind ran through various forms of payback but one stuck in his mind. He smiled darkly and rose from his chair, picking up his coat. The detective gave a quizzical look.

'You can't be serious.' He stated with a huff of a laugh. John gave him a completely emotionless glance.

'Watch me.' He declared.


	4. Chapter 4

John left the flat and began walking. It didn't really matter where he walked, he knew he'd get picked up eventually. As it turned out, he only had to walk for fifteen minutes, just long enough to be in the nearby park and away from the public eye, before he felt a presence behind him. John carried on walking until he came across a bench. He sat down and the other man sat down next to him, pressing up close.

'Ah, Johnny. I did wonder if you would.' The Irish voice giggled. The doctor shivered as the familiar chill coursed through his body. It always did that when the consulting criminal touched him.

'I'm doing this to annoy Sherlock. I have no intention to doing anything with you.' The soldier stated, not looking at the man tucked up in to his side. The consulting criminal laughed as he let his fingers trail across the doctors chest.

'Once you chose to walk out of the flat you completely lost control of the situation. Now you're entirely at my mercy.' James Moriarty replied languidly. John tilted his head to look at the man out of the corner of his eye. The dark haired criminal met his gaze with a childishly innocent expression. John checked his watch then shrugged the Irishman off of him.

'Well, I guess I'd best be going now. I only wanted to annoy Sherlock, after all.' He said, standing up. The soldier didn't get far as Jim latched onto his jumper and dragged him back, forcing him down onto the bench then straddling his thighs.

'You leave when I say you can leave.' He snarled, all innocence in his demeanour replaced with the unpredictable nature that showed his psychopathic tendencies. John blinked in shock then came back to his senses and hastily let go of the consulting criminal, though when he grabbed hold of him the doctor would never know. Jim chuckled and pressed himself forward so their chests were flush against each other and their noses lightly touched.

'Um, you're a bit close.' John whispered, still unsure how to react. The psychopath only smiled brightly.

'Not close enough, Johnny-Boy.' He replied, pressing their lips together. The doctor kept his mouth closed and tried to push the criminal away but he was much stronger than he looked. Jim growled and nipped at the blond doctors lips til he gasped in pain then he slipped his tongue inside the suddenly revealed cavern.

The soldier surrendered with a moan and allowed Moriarty to map out his mouth. As he began to get used to the sensation, he realised that the Irishman's hands were roaming his body, getting increasingly lower. When the younger man's fingers brushed over the denim of John's jeans, the doctor pulled away again.

'Oh no. Definitely not. Not on a bench, not in a park and, most of all, not with you.' He stated boldly, immediately regretting want he'd said. Or, at least, the tone he had said it in. Jim sat back, still on his lap, and thought for a moment before getting up and dragging the doctor round the bench to the small wooded area behind.

'You seem to think that I care about what your opinion.' Jim snapped, shoving the doctor down before following him. 'Now this will be so much easier for both of us if you just give in. Who knows? You might enjoy it. Or you can fight and I'll do it anyway.' John looked vaguely paler as he propped himself up on his elbows.

'I'd have thought rape was beneath you.' He said, trying to sound nonchalant and failing miserably. Jim smiled darkly, showing his pearly white teeth.

'You're beneath me at the moment and I'm prepared to make an exception.'


	5. Chapter 5

John struggled until his body gave out from exhaustion but somehow Moriarty didn't seem to have tired at all.

'D-Don't. Please.' The soldier panted, putting his arms up in a last ditch, feeble attempt of stopping the consulting criminal. Jim chuckled and battered the hands away, unbuttoning the doctors jeans in the same movement.

'Front or back?' Moriarty asked almost sweetly. John blinked.

'Whu?' And it seemed his voice wasn't working either. The criminal mastermind gave a condescending glance and sat back on his haunches.

'You can choose. On your front or on your back, I don't particularly care which. Just be quick about it or I'll decide for you.' The Irishman explained curtly.

'Front.' John said, knowing that-in the eyes of the law-by deciding this he had basically just said yes, but at this point he couldn't really care less. It was going to happen no matter what so he wanted to be comfortable. Before he could think on the subject anymore he found himself facing the ground, having been skilfully flipped by the dark haired criminal. Sighing in defeat, John spread his legs, wanting to save himself from as much pain as possible. Moriarty chuckled and slipped his hands under the waistband of the doctors pants, swiftly pulling both them and his jeans to mid-thigh level. With a hum of approval, the consulting criminal prepared himself and fished a bottle of lube out of his jacket pocket. John heard his movements and looked back with a raised eyebrow.

'Don't look at me like that, I plan to be doing this again soon-if without the outside aspect-I won't be able to if your still healing from this time.' Jim said, warming the lube up with his fingers before pushing on of the slicked digits into the doctors entrance. John bit down on the sleeve of his jumper, desperate not to make noise. They were in bright daylight in a public park, for Christ's sake! Anyone could walk by and see them. A second finger joined the first and gently stretched apart. A needy moan escaped the soldiers lips as he tried to contain himself. Jim let loose a filthy chuckle as he had a third, clearly becoming impatient. John relaxed as much as he physically could, breathing deeply in an attempt to stay calm.

Just as he had gotten used to the feeling of the digits moving in and out of him, they were removed completely and replaced by Moriarty's shaft sliding in up to the hilt. This time, the doctor couldn't suppress the scream so he muffled it instead by biting down hard on his woollen jumper. He hadn't expected Moriarty to be careful with him and so he wasn't surprised when the criminal mastermind set a fast pace and stuck to it, pounding into the doctor. John groaned as Jim reached round to stroke his member, by now the doctor was far too gone to care about who it was behind him and how wrong the whole situation was. His stomach was beginning to knot and he was certain he had been babbling incessantly for the past five minutes. He heard a filthy chuckle from behind him and the Irishman's lips brushed past his ear.

'Six minutes and twelve seconds, actually.' He whispered breathily before moving is mouth to the tanned neck and clamping down hard with his teeth, drawing blood as he climaxed at the same time. The feeling pushed John over the edge as well and he fell into a white-hot, blinding void.


	6. Chapter 6

Sherlock paced the living room of the flat. He had expected John to walk round for a bit then come back but he had been gone for over an hour now. The detective looked out of the window then his ears picked up the soft click of the door opening. He turned round as the heavy wooden door open to see his flatmate and Moriarty fall into the flat, faces seemingly attached together. He stared in shock as the consulting criminal straddled the soldier, cupping his face in his hands as they continued to try and shove their tongues down each others throats.

After a few moments, Sherlock coughed in annoyance. Jim looked up with a Cheshire cat smile firmly plastered on his face.

'Oh Shirley, I didn't see you there.' He stated in his high pitched, sing-song voice. John scowled at him.

'You bloody well knew he would be. Git.' He mumbled, trying to push the Irishman off him before giving up and twisting his head so he could see the detective.

'I'm so sorry, he's a persistent little blighter-.' The rest of the doctors sentence was cut off as the criminal latched onto his neck, enticing a rumbling moan out of his lips. The detective watched the two men for a short time. He could tell exactly where they had been-the park-and exactly what had happen, though he secretly wished he didn't. What was odd was that his flatmate seemed to be enjoying himself, however; the evidence was everywhere that the sex wasn't consensual so what the hell happened? Moriarty giggled maniacally as he pulled away from the soldier to look at Sherlock.

'You really don't get it, do you?' The criminal asked, smile still playing on his lips. The detective scowled.

'Well, I'm sure you'll have a long time to figure it out. In the meantime, John and I are going to go into his bedroom for some adult private time. No, the door won't be locked but I think we'd appreciate it if you kept out. Okay, Shirley? Good.' Jim said in his sweetly patronising tones, picking the soldier up off the floor and dragging him to the stairs before pushing him up to the bedroom.

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><p>A few hours later, the two men reappeared in the living room. Sherlock ignored them, Jim had made sure that the whole street knew what he and John had been doing, even the deaf woman who lived a few doors down. Moriarty gave the doctor a peck on the cheek then left the flat, only turning back to wink slyly. John went into the kitchen with a faint blush on his cheeks, clearly trying to avoid the detective for as long as possible. Sherlock just wasn't going to give him that satisfaction.<p>

John didn't realise he wasn't alone in the kitchen until he was pressed up against the worktop by his flatmate.

'You are going to tell me what happened. Now.' The detective growled. John gulped and twisted his head to face Sherlock.

'I'm sure you know what happened. You can't actually be that naïve.' The doctor snapped, not likely the fact that he was trapped again.

'After the sex. He raped you so why did you invite him back and let him take you again?' Sherlock asked. The soldier sighed, well it probably was Sherlock's business.

'Ok. Let me go and I'll tell you.' He surrendered.


	7. Chapter 7

Thankfully, no one had passed by the small wooded area which vaguely hid John and Jim from the public view. As soon as the criminal pulled out, the doctor dragged his clothes up and fastened them, standing and moving out of the small woodland backwards so that he kept his eyes on the dark haired Irishman who seemed to be taking his time getting dressed again.

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><p>Once out of the woodland, John turned and ran. If Moriarty really wanted him back again, he would be pulled back no matter what he did but the act of running was doing wonders for his mind. His sanity seemed to be returning to him, though he really doubted he would ever have actual sanity again. Just as the soldier turned saw the exit to the park, a tall figure step out of the shadows. John ran into him and was knocked to the ground. He started the apologies until he realised who it was and the words died on his tongue.<p>

'John Watson. Fancy seeing you here.' The deep voice rumbled. The doctor crawled back then got to his feet.

'Kieran. I haven't seen you since Afghanistan.' John replied, trying his best to sound confident, or at least like he didn't remember what the other man had been screaming the last time they saw each other.

'No, I don't believe we have. But since we're here, I've got a little score to settle.' The man towered over the soldier and he grabbed John's jumper with a beefy hand, almost hoisting the blond doctor off the ground.

'Eye for an eye, that is the saying, is it not?' The man sneered, flicking out a Swiss army knife. 'I'm going to enjoy watching you bleed.' He man laughed as John paled and tried to squirm away but the adrenaline that coursed through his body when he ran from Moriarty seemed to have ebbed away and the pain now seeped through, causing him to wince with every movement. Kieran Banks was a soldier who had been in John's squad. Sadly, so was Jack Banks, his younger brother. Who happened to be in a car that ran over a landmine. The doctor had tried everything to save him but the man died anyway. Kieran blamed him for the loss of his brother and it seemed he still did.

'Excuse me but that is _my_ doctor you're pawing.' A Irish voice spoke silkily. Kieran raised an eyebrow.

'Yeh, and who are you?' He snapped. The Irishman smiled darkly.

'Jim Moriarty. Hi!' He replied in his falsetto voice. John fell to the ground with a thump. He stared up at Kieran, whose eye's were bulging and his hands were held up in surrender as he stepped back.

'Man, I didn't know, I swear.' The bulky soldier stuttered. Jim laughed and crouched down, holding John's chin and turning his head from side to side delicately.

'Since he's all in one piece, I could be persuaded to let you live.' Moriarty said slowly. Kieran began babbling his apologies but was silenced.

'Now you go back to wherever it was you came from and you tell everyone. John. Watson. Is. Mine.' The consulting criminal growled. Kieran nodded incessantly then turned tail and ran out of the park.


	8. Chapter 8

Sherlock listened patiently as John told his story, not moving an inch. When the doctor had finished, both men remained in silence for a few moments.

'So he saved your life from an enraged ex-soldier and you decided to give him another go.' Sherlock stated and John suddenly realised how ludicrous it must sound to anyone other than him.

'Well, you know what I'm like with danger.' The soldier replied. The two men stared at each other, then they broke into grins which soon became laughter. Sherlock pulled in the shorter man for a crushing hug.

'I'm not sure if your insane or stupid.' He chuckled, ruffling the shorter males blond hair. John pushed away and tried to flatten his hair before giving up with a good natured harrumph.

'I invaded Afghanistan, got addicted to danger, came home and found you then started chasing criminals over rooftops, I shot someone practically the first day I met you and I've just shagged a guy who strapped me to a bomb not three weeks ago. I think it's fair to say I'm not a sane person.' The doctor stated, trying desperately to keep a straight face. 'Tea?' He hoped the normal question on the end of his little speech would add to it's comedy. It did and the detective laughed again, walking to his sofa and flopping down on it, still somehow managing to look graceful as he did it.

In the kitchen, John felt his phone buzz and he opened the message with a sigh, expecting it to be Sherlock.

_Hey babe, I'm about to do something bad. I think you should come and stop me. M xxx_

The doctor raised an eyebrow and was about to put his phone away when it got another text, this one with directions. The soldier poked his head round the door.

'Um. I need to go out. Now.' He said, completely forgetting about the tea. The detective smirked.

'Go to your criminal lover-boy. Lestrade wants me for a case. But be warned, I will tell him exactly where you are if he asks.' Sherlock replied innocently. John shook his head, in too much of a good mood to be annoyed with his flatmates antics. He shrugged into his coat then left the flat, keeping the door open for the consulting detective who followed him out.

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><p><em>Of course, Anderson asked where John was and, true to his word, Sherlock told him. Rather loudly, so that the entire Yard could here his answer. Most didn't actually believe that John had a 'Criminal mastermind boyfriend' until, that is, they asked the doctor himself. John blushed, coughed and cast a glare over his flatmate. The Yard never got a reply to that question. Not from Doctor Watson anyway. They did get an answer many months later in the form of a series of bombs, arsons and acts of petty vandalism which, when viewed from space, said the words '<strong>John Watson, will you marry me?<strong>' Jim Moriarty moved into 221B Baker Street and quit his job as consulting criminal-_

'John, what the hell are you talking about? You're not seriously going to put this drivel on your blog? That last sentence isn't even correct, for Christ's sake! As if I'd give up being a criminal, seriously. And, as for moving in, well…'

John watched his husband pace the room, growing increasingly annoyed. Sherlock entered with a case file, sniggered at the two men then proceeded to spread the paper all over the floor, muttering something about keeping lovers tiffs out of the flat. The doctor smiled and deleted the last sentence of his entry before posting it to his blog. Why make up a story when the truth is so much crazier?

**END**

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><p><strong>AN-<strong> Happy Valentines ^.^

xxx


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